Фотоколлекция в телефоне Чарли Шина
So That Happened: My Unexpected Life in Hollywood (2016)
Jon Cryer
https://www.amazon.com/So-That-Happened-Jon-Cryer/dp/0451472365
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22571499-so-that-happened
Chapter 25: Episodes of Two and a Half Men:
"(...)When Charlie’s marriage to Denise ended during the second season-which I was truly saddened by, for obvious reasons-both Charlie and I became single at the same time. Which was . . . interesting.
Our parking spaces were right next to each other, and they were in front of the soundstage alleyway that housed our side-by-side trailers, so in the morning I’d often see him sitting outside his trailer smoking as I walked toward mine. During this time we’d have a conversation, and he’d mention that things had been going well for him romantically. “Romantically” is my choice of words, not his.
Then, as if to prove this, he’d show me a picture he’d taken of somebody’s vagina. It was always a perfectly nice-looking vagina, but I would invariably think, Why just this, and not the rest of the person?
And what do you say in that moment? “Thank you for that vagina picture”? “How long have you been seeing . . . it”? “Please tell me she was awake”?
* * *
We talked about prostitutes. He’d said publicly that you don’t pay prostitutes to come to your house; you pay them to leave. He’d thought this through, obviously.
I was in a bad state right after my divorce, and I certainly didn’t feel dateable. I was an emotional basket case. What good was I to any woman I might have an interest in? I decided I might as well pay someone for company and certain intimate pleasures so that I could at least get my equilibrium back with the opposite sex. Charlie suggested a few online purveyors he occasionally used, as this was when prostitution was gaining a foothold on the Internet. He and I had different tastes, so I didn’t go with his exact recommendations, but my forays into prostitution were about as awkward as you might imagine.
I went with an out-call for my first try, which means they come over to your house, and as I waited for her that evening, I couldn’t help but think of my hooker-loving Upper West Side neighbor, Mr. Green, and his violent encounter with a tagalong boyfriend. My chosen vendor was alone, though, and she drove a white BMW to boot (nice!), plus sported a sexy Finnish accent. It was really a very friendly experience, maybe because the act of having sex is quite the conversational icebreaker. Afterward I inquired about seeing her again.
The next time I went to her place, which probably wasn’t really her place, but there you go. It was pretty depressing, but that didn’t matter, because we sat down, tried to make small talk, and awkwardly stumbled into a conversation about recent fluctuations in the stock market. Somehow I ended up spending twenty-five minutes of my hour helping her with financial planning. That was fine, really. I learned that the sex part of these transactions is fairly perfunctory, and that you may have a perfectly nice time chatting, but you always feel weird afterward, because you’ve spent all this money for the part that never lasts as long as you want it to. What I really needed to do was gear myself up to date like a normal person.
“You have to understand,” she told me at one point, “I end up doing a lot more talking. A lot. That seems to be what a lot of guys want, almost as much as the other stuff.”
I was also apparently one of the very few nonmarried customers she’d had. Yikes.
I suppose if Charlie’s example of his evening’s entertainment was best exemplified by a snapshot of lady parts, mine would be a picture of me hunched over a table of papers and telling a hot chick, “The real estate boom is building up, so I’m sounding a note of caution. You might want to diversify.”"